You Will Be Over There
by SSJ-Alhazred
Summary: A series of shorts on the various trials, tribulations and hilarities endured by Dylan Shepard. "Joker's Wild" continuity.
1. You Will Be Over There

This is a series of shorts, mostly written for various challenge prompts at the ME challenge comm on Livejournal. All of this fits in with "Joker's Wild" and its continuations.

* * *

_You Will Be Over There_  
(Grunt learns something not in his imprints)

"Your hair is funnier than the other humans,' Shepard."

"Funny?" Dylan couldn't help the impulse to run a hand over the top of his head. Okay, so he was the only one on the ship with a blatantly military haircut...and the only one with red hair...and would probably still stand out like a giant flare in a crowd of red-heads anyway, he wasn't really sure if that meant he had really good genes, really bad genes, or just really _odd_ genes. Still. "How is it funny?"

"None of the humans in my imprints have that color." Grunt sounded like he took this very seriously. "Is it because you're biotic?"

"No," Dylan sighed.

"Must be a terrible biotic, then."

_That_ got Dylan more interested in the conversation. "Excuse me?"

"What kind of power doesn't leave a mark or a sign?" Grunt's vague finger-pointing made it clear how important he thought this was. "If it doesn't even scar you, it can't be all that powerful."

Wondering whether he should chalk it up to Grunt's immaturity, insane krogan logic, or both, Dylan made a face. "Did Okeer leave an imprint that shows you what it's like to be knocked across the room?" He raised a hand, willing enough of a biotic surge out through the eezo dotting his nerves to flare light up from his fingers. "Because I can do it with my brain."

To Grunt, this was nothing more than a challenge. "Just try."

Dylan didn't throw his hand out or up, didn't try to negate Grunt's mass to send him floating into the air. No, Dylan Shepard did not do things half-assed, especially things like proving to growing krogan that size wasn't everything.

Mass, of course, _was_ everything, and when he drew his arms in and buckled down, hurling himself straight at Grunt with biotic energy, Grunt learned this firsthand. He went sailing right by his tank and hit the bulkhead so hard, his hump left a dent.

Mass-effect fields fading away, Dylan saw every moment, every _glorious_ moment as Grunt went flying, the entire thing over as soon as his boots hit the ground like he'd stopped from a run.

For a moment, Grunt didn't move, and it was just, _just_ long enough for Dylan to wonder if he'd overdid it, if he should've maybe thought this through more, if he'd seriously hurt him or...

Grunt bounded to his feet, ecstatic. "That was _great!_ Do it again, Shepard!"

_Well,_ Dylan thought, _At least he stopped insulting me..._


	2. Man in Uniform

_Man in Uniform  
_("Nothing like a man in uniform," "Mom?")

When Dylan Shepard graduates from boot camp, his mother isn't there. She's on-mission somewhere on the borders of Alliance space, she probably won't get his message for days, and some part of him can't help but be bothered by it. He knows it's not her fault, he knows she can't just drop everything, especially if gunfire, even ship-to-ship, is involved.

It doesn't last long, because it's part of the job, and it's going to be part of _his_ job now. His boyfriend _is_ there, and listening to him sheepishly admit that he really, _really_ likes the way Dylan looks in his uniform gives Dylan a certain sense of pride that his mother's absence denies him, even if it's over something so silly.

When Dylan Shepard finishes the N7 program and earns his commission (not his butterbars, no one calls an N by their ranks' nicknames,) his mother _is_ there. It's not like finishing boot and taking a stroll out on the parade grounds, it's small and subtle, a gentleman's party where no one even talks about the matter at hand.

Hannah Shepard brushes a hand over her son's shoulder even though there isn't any dust to brush off. She stares at him good and long, quite sure that he can tell she's thinking about his father. She's a naval officer, her husband was a Marine grunt, and they both know he died on the ground, in a gunfight.

She doesn't say that. She says, "You look good."

This moment feels like it happened years ago when, two weeks later, Dylan is watching the UT-47 he's brought a team of Marines to Akuze with melt down the middle into a blob of green goop. The moment is gone from his thoughts entirely when two of those Marines meet similar fates. The rest of his life feels like someone else's memories when he leads the survivors into the research outpost, reasoning that its mostly intact, that the things, the _monsters_ must ignore it because it's not meat.

When he realizes the mistake, that they can still sense their meat inside the complex put together from pre-fabs, the rest of the universe is gone from his mind, only this place remains. When the monsters fail to take him, one of the smaller baby ones ripped apart by his biotics for its attempt, they take the others instead.

Dylan Shepard doesn't give up before the monsters do. When he wakes up in the hospital and looks down at himself, he's relieved to see he somehow has two arms and two legs, then horrified by the teeth marks on his chest, the chemical burns on those limbs, the knowledge that he'll never be able to see himself without seeing Threshers at the edge of his eyes.

He finally gives up when his boyfriend visits, and it's not to express relief. He has the decency to do it in person. "I can't handle this again," he says, "I just can't. I wish you'd never signed up."

His mother says something similar when she finally comes, but she doesn't abandon him. She can't hate him for being declared KIA for two weeks and then miraculously found after everyone who cares have all spent days trying to figure out how to grieve and move on.

Dylan's mom hugs him and he thinks, right then, it's finally okay to cry.


	3. Mistake

_Mistake_  
(Unrequited Love)

The conversation is a blur. It makes Dylan feel like he's going to throw up.

"You show up after two years and act like nothing's happened."

That's what it feels like.

"You're with Cerberus, now..."

It's not what it looks like, it's not that simple...

"There were rumors that you were alive...that you were working for the enemy."

It's not that simple, no one else will do anything about the Collectors...

"You've turned your back on everything we stood for!"

A thousand things go through Dylan's head right then. A thousand ways the world just isn't as simple as a good little Marine is supposed to pretend it is so falling in line is easier.

"I know where my loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier, always will be."

It doesn't make Dylan feel better about suffocating to death in space only to wake up a Cerberus agent and not the serviceman he'd expected to be when he'd first shipped off for boot.

He remembers the long days on the SR-1 between systems, he remembers dropping into a chair at the table, head rested on folded arms, staring intently at the man he's two years gone from. He remembers his excuses, lost in thought or unable to relax in the captain's quarters after so long sharing space with other grunts.

Dylan remembers watching Kaidan at his station while "against the regs" and "he doesn't swing that way" drummed in his head constantly. He remembers making the call on Virmire.

"So long, Commander. Good luck."

Watching Staff Commander Alenko leave, Dylan thinks he'd rather be dead again than spend another five minutes on Horizon.


	4. Combat Tactics

This one wasn't written for a prompt, I'd just finished _Lair of the Shadow Broker_ and I couldn't _not_ do something with the information in Legion's dossier.

Mild spoiler for _Lair of the Shadow Broker._

* * *

_Combat Tactics_

Dylan Shepard wasn't one to panic. He wasn't one to be subtle about problems, either. "I'm down!"

"We will render assistance momentarily." If nothing else, Legion's calm, not-quite-monotone in the face of what stressed out someone like Shepard was comforting. True to their word, they began navigating a path towards their fallen comrade.

"I'm bleeding out," Dylan was speaking through gritted teeth, his hands clammy, fingers held tightly around-

Legion interrupted his desperation with, "We calculate an acceptable margin for error in our efforts."

"Great." Sighing, Dylan leaned back and stretched his legs out, momentarily letting go of the game controller in his hands to crack his knuckles. How was it that Legion, a hive-mind made from a conglomeration of many from a software-based machine species, enjoyed these things, anyway? "Why is this more stressful than reality?"

Watching their extremely large turian character lean over the skinny, smart-ass human Shepard was playing as to inject the unrealistically-effective medigel, Legion added, "We believe your experience in actual combat tactics inhibits your gameplay, Shepard-Commander. To put it another way, you expect too much realism."

"No," Dylan sighed, quickly getting a decent grip on his gamepad again, "I've always been terrible at this. That's why I played basketball in high-school, it was the only thing I could do better than the other kids." Taking this thought to its logical conclusion, Dylan realized why they were playing _Alliance of Two_ instead of _N7 Code of Honor; _Legion would absolutely destroy him in anything that was competitive instead of cooperative. "I bet you get accused of cheating a lot in deathmatch."

Pausing as their turian avatar gunned down the last crazy batarian terrorist in the room they were in, Legion said, "We prefer capture-the-flag." Another pause, the fins on Legion's head standing up halfway, before they added, "It provides a pre-determined area suitable for precision rifles."

Noting that the turian character's rifle was, unrealistically, the same model Legion actually used in reality, Dylan glanced at his character's basic assault rifle.

With a frown, Shepard said, "Camper."


	5. Dossier

This was done for the "Make a _Lair of the Shadowbroker_-style dossier for your Shepard" prompt at the Mass Effect LJ comm.

* * *

Shepard, Dylan  
Human  
Age: 31

**Family:**

Mother / Hannah Shepard, Systems Alliance  
Father / Evan Shepard, Systems Alliance (Deceased)

**Education:**

PS34, Arcturus Station  
Sector Seven High School, Amaterasu  
PS221, Watson

Recent Purchases

-Subscription; "Badass Weekly"  
-Item; "Matron" brand Thessian lube  
-Item; Bipedal training dummy, weighted for biotic practice  
-Vid; "Saving Private Ryan"  
-Vid; "Xenohistory - The Turian Military - Pre-Mass-Effect"  
-Vid; "Blackhawk Down"  
-Vid; "Pearl Harbor" (Deleted)  
-Book; "Generation Kill"  
-Article; "Beekeeping - Maintaining a Healthy Chitin Carapace"  
-Vid; "Marines Home On Leave - Gay-for-Pay Edition"  
-Item; Biotic Implant Dummy Plug

Extranet Activity

SEARCH: human colonys/MODIFIED/human colonies  
SEARCH: computer literacy lessons  
SEARCH: eden prime recovery  
SEARCH: reapers  
SEARCH: latest basketball news  
SEARCH: recent MMA fights  
SEARCH: dating for two men/ERASED/dating aboard ship  
SEARCH: timothy verdeschi/ERASED/

Gamer Profile for DillShep101:

_Alliance of Two_: 15 hours played: favorite co-op buddy - Infiltrait0rN7  
AWARD: Crutch (Revived 100 times by co-op buddy)  
AWARD: Sacrificial Virgin (Killed by co-op buddy to save Arcturus Station)

_Grim Terminus Alliance_: 50 hours played: no completed playthroughs

_N7 Code of Honor: Medal of Duty_: 60 hours played: favorite teammate - J0k3Rsr2  
AWARD: Boomstick (1000 shotgun kills)  
AWARD: Eezo Freak (Used all Biotic perks 100 times each)

Audio Transcript  
_Recorded from local surveillance on Ilium, newly installed security systems in establishment lacking hacking prevention measures. Normandy SR-2 in port at Nos Astra._

**Jeffrey Moreau:** Are we getting a stripper?

**Dylan Shepard:** I...wasn't planning on that, no.

**M:** There's a hunky turian over there...

**S:** Joker.

**M:** Okay, okay, sheesh. I know you're afraid you'll rip your shirt off and pass out in a drunken haze if you have a drink, but the point of taking someone you like to a bar is to have fun.

**S:** I used to be good at this kind of thing. Then I enlisted.

**M:** I only call you a jarhead because I love you.

**S:** Right. Speaking of that...

[Pause in conversation]

**M:** ...is that a ring?

**S:** It's not an _engagement_ ring, just...

**M:** Oh god, please don't call it a 'commitment' ring. That's just too girly.

**S:** Actually, it's more of a 'want to get you something but can't think of what' ring. A fully-functional robot body for EDI didn't seem feasible.

**M:** Fair enough. This is a good way of getting into my pants later, at the very least.

**S:** That's not difficult anyway.

**M:** Yeah, who am I kidding? Hey, we should invite that turian.

**S:** I'm not having a threesome with a turian. Why are you more of a perv lately?

**M:** Hey, I have limitations. There's only so much I can do. Have to spice it up _somehow_ or it gets boring, and a boring physical side is pretty bad for a relationship.

**S:** I...guess that makes sense. I...can probably handle experimenting at some point.

**M:** You don't sound thrilled.

**S:** Well, that's what happens when you leave your comfort zone. I'm willing to leave my comfort zone for the sake of a relationship.

**M:** If it helps, I wasn't thinking we should do something weird anytime soon, and I was just joking about the turian.

**S:** Does that mean what you really want to do is worse?

**M:** I want to watch while you nail an asari.

[Conversation pauses]

**S:** I've never...

**M:** That's part of the charm.

[Conversation pauses]

**M:** You don't want the ring back, do you?

**S:** Why would I?

**M:** I thought I was going overboard.

**S:** I'm just...feeling inadequate.

**M:** _That's_ a first, _I'm_ usually the inadequate one.

**S:** You want to get out of here and practice not being inadequate?

**M:** Pay the tab.

_Surveillance Ends_


	6. Shore Leave Friday

This was written for the Mass Effect LJ comm's Shore Leave Friday when I thought "I'd like to take the name of the weekly fandom repository completely literally."

There are some characters here that have appeared out of nowhere with no explanation, because this takes place concurrently with another "Joker's Wild"-series fic I'm working on.

* * *

_Shore Leave Friday_

Joker's tendency to be anti-social was not at all lost on others. His thought process on the matter, however, often was.

"C'mon, Jeff. Don't be a stick in the mud. How often do we get shore leave on this job, anyway?"

Somehow, Ken Donnelly's accent had become far more annoying between yesterday and right now. Suspecting he'd done it on purpose, Joker stopped staring at him and pretended to read the news he'd been scrolling through on the datapad in his hand. He really couldn't multitask with reading, but he didn't want Donnelly to think he was actually paying attention to him. "Time off is time off no matter how you spend it. I'd just rather browse the extranet instead of hobbling around and getting sunburned."

Unacknowledged by either of them, Devros wandered into the mess and plopped down on a seat at the other end of the table, one hand setting his omni-tool down and the other carrying a toolbox. He started pulling a few instruments from the box, and began the process of re-calibrating his omni-tool.

"C'mon," Donnelly was practically whining now, "There's beaches, decadent food even I can forgive for not fitting my traditional tastes, and did I mention the beaches?"

"You don't need to," Joker sighed. "I'm the helmsmen, remember? I kind-of figured out where we are when I _landed_ the ship."

A predatory grin on his face, Donnelly adjusted his grip on his duffel bag and leaned over the table, practically shoving his face into Joker's. "Word from the CIC is Shepard's hitting a beach. Wouldn't want to miss the chance to ogle him laying on the sand, would you?"

Trying to process this image, rubbing his eyes as if to make it, or at least make _Donnelly_ go away, Joker decided to make an effort at ignoring him. Turning to Devros, he said, "Hey, why are you doing that here, anyway? Don't you have a workbench down in engineering?"

Shrugging, Devros answered, "The robot is doing maintenance on the trash compactor." Tweaking another part of the omni-tool with a little stick-like device that looked too thin to possibly do anything, he said, "Everyone seems to have gone from the 'stare accusingly' phase to the 'look quickly away and pretend we weren't staring' phase, this seemed as good a place as any."

"Fair enough," Joker sighed. He'd been hoping to get into an actual, distracting conversation, but, sadly, this hadn't happened.

"Hey, what about you?" Donnelly himself rarely gave Devros any trouble; he was an engineer before anything, and Devros was a fellow gearhead. "Libo? With girls? Booze? Parties?"

"We're in council space," Devros blinked at him, feeling that this should've been obvious. When it became clear Donnelly would need it spelled out, he continued. "If I walk out onto a planet in council space, I'm liable to get arrested." After Donnelly started looking like he really felt stupid, Devros also said, "Besides, I'm not a fan of beaches. Wear a winter jacket out there and you'll know what I'd feel like."

Finally finding a kindred spirit of sorts, Joker couldn't resist. "Batarian, I think I might have just started liking you."

A wry little grin on his face, Devros turned his eyes back to his gear on the table.

Quickly turning the gathering into a crowd, Engineer Daniels appeared from around the corner, similarly prepared to disembark. "Kenneth, what's the hold-up?"

"Was just fishing for some more company," Donnelly gave her an apologetic look. "Christ, I feel like I'm the only one around here who wouldn't have fun at a tax audit. Joker's content to let all the girls on the beach stare at Shepard in his speedo without him."

"Oh for," dropping his datapad, Joker paid it no mind when his lack of planning sent it straight to the floor instead of nicely flat on the table. "He doesn't _own_ one. And don't even tell me he does, because I've seen his entire wardrobe, and he doesn't even have actual swim trunks, he'll just be faking it with cargo shorts his mother bought him." Completely apathetic to the fact that telling Shepard's other subordinates that his mother bought him clothes probably wasn't a good idea, Joker took his rant a little farther. "And what do I even care? I see him naked. Hell, I used to see him naked before I was sleeping with him; he had to use the crew showers like the rest of us on the old Normandy."

"Hey, sometimes clothes can be sexier than nudity," Ken's tone of voice changed rather suddenly, his feet shuffling when he glance down at them, his eyes traveling there by way of looking in Gabby's vague direction first. "I mean, anyone can look at porn, but..."

"I am not having this conversation," Joker considered hiding behind his hat, but he ultimately decided that this would be ineffective. He decided that acting juvenile would be better, so he stuck his fingers in his ears. "Lalalalala laaaa la la, I can't hear you!"

"C'mon, Jeff," Donnelly went back to his prodding, apparently having not yet given up. "Even Commander Alenko's taking some time to soak up some rays. And if anyone needs some color in his skin here..."

"It's _Shepard,_ who is a hell of a lot paler then I am," Joker answered. "And don't even start with me on Kaidan, I _know_ him. That's not a surprise. He's such a goodie-goodie you think he's got some stick made of purity and innocence stuck up his ass, but he's as horny as the next man, and if he's not hitting on some asari chick as we speak, it's only because he's already banging her."

Garrus was now approaching, Joker's earlier shouting having roused his curiosity enough to get him out of gunnery control.

"That's," Gabby shifted her weight, "Well...I guess I can't judge a man for having a sex life, it's just...odd to think about, in his case."

Unfortunately, Garrus had reached earshot when she said this, and he had the distinct impression that he'd either walked into the conversation at the wrong time, or just plain walked into the wrong conversation. "Why are we talking about someone's sex life?"

Through gritted teeth, Joker hissed, "We're not. At all or ever again, especially mine, especially about how it does or does not relate to Shepard wearing a speedo."

Recognizing he was out of the loop, Garrus asked, what was, to him, the obvious question. "What's a speedo?"

While Devros shrugged and muttered about his mutual ignorance at Garrus, Joker realized that he'd really chosen his words poorly, and he very much wanted to swallow his foot, if not worse. "I really, really wish I could bang my head against the table without killing myself right now."

It wasn't going to get any better, not with the way Devros had picked up another of the datapads spread out on the table so he could start an Extranet Image Search. "That's," he peered at the pad closely, all four eyes squinting. "Oh, now I get it. Guess I should update my translator."

When Devros passed him the datapad, Garrus had a much more animated reaction, despite the tendency of turian facial expressions to be rather subdued. "Humans wear that in public?" He turned the datapad ninety-degrees, "_Shepard_ wears that?"

"No, unless he's starting today and just didn't tell me." Sighing, Joker finally gave up. He'd had worse conversations in his life...at least, he thought he did. He couldn't remember right now. He buried his face in his hands and scrubbed them up and down, finally setting for letting his forehead rest on both hands put together. "What did I do to deserve this? Why is it _weird_ that I'm in a relationship with someone I trust enough to not care when he takes his shirt off around other people?"

"Oh, hey, I didn't mean it like _that,_" Donnelly actually seemed genuinely apologetic, for what it was worth. "Just...you know."

"Kenneth, you mean everything like that, especially when you're not trying," Gabby rolled her eyes. "C'mon, stop pestering Joker, we're wasting valuable beach time."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," he sighed, deflating as his own experience with defeat sunk in. "Well, enjoy your night, fellas."

"I _was_ doing that," Joker murmured under his breath, "Then high-school came back."

Glancing at Devros and sharing a shrug with the batarian, Garrus left him to his calibrations and headed back for gunnery. He had plenty of that to take care of himself, and there was no time like the present.

* * *

When Dylan finally opted to return to the Normandy, it was more because he just didn't think he would enjoy being outside alone after raising hell with friends for hours on end.

Hours on end translating into 0200 hours may have had something to do with it. Still, there was a certain satisfaction in some down-time gone well, and he felt lighter on his feet for it, a little less stressed out. His plan of spending the remainder of the evening getting into Joker's pants had gone right down the drain when he'd lost track of the day, but there would time for that sort of thing later. It didn't need to be rushed.

Besides, his companions were entertaining enough to distract him as they entered the ship once the decontamination cycle had finished. "And the way he just stood there while you stole his shirt," Jacob was on the verge of breaking down in hysterics. "Ten, twenty seconds until he notices, I didn't know that was _possible._"

"All in the distraction," Kasumi answered.

Dylan followed them silently from behind, watching Kasumi's arm make its way around Jacob's back. He wondered if Jacob really noticed, but he didn't say anything. Wrapping his hand around the strap that held his ruck to his back, holding it steady, he just let the elevator take them down and watched them wander their separate ways, Kasumi taking the time to watch Jacob with one hand to her chin as he meandered into the bunk room. She had that look on her eyes that said she wanted to steal something.

Once she'd vanished into Port Observation, Dylan rounded the corner, intent on raiding Gardner's fridge for munchies. That he was met with noticeably awkward stares from Garrus and Devros at the table, and that they were there at this hour with Joker like it was normal, gave him pause. "What's wrong?"

All three of them looked him over. Cargo-shorts, like Joker had said. Sleeveless T-Shirt that had led to his arms getting sunburned as badly as his face, boots that he hadn't bothered to put back on held in the hand not keeping his ruck pulled close to his back. It was Garrus who broke the silence. "You're just," he paused again, as if thinking carefully, "Overdressed. I mean, you would be for either of us. With the heat, and everything."

"Obviously completely sensible for humans," Devros added. "We wouldn't be curious if we were human."

"Oh," Dylan shrugged, the pause while he was still lugging his stuff around causing him to realize how worn-out he was, his posture slumping a little. "Well, you wouldn't think so if Donnelly came back first."

Eyes narrowing, Joker leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. "Oh?"

"Yeah, he and Daniels hooked up with Alenko to go swimming with some asari one of them met. Worst swim trunks ever. It's pink," he let go of the strap, not caring as his ruck hung less steadily from his shoulder, putting his hand to the very top of his leg. "And just goes down to here."

"Really," Joker said, flatly. "Never would've guessed."

"Guessed?" Dylan noticed Garrus and Devros sharing a look, each of them shrugging in turn, and he gave Joker his full attention when they simply walked away with a nod each.

"Doesn't matter." Joker hauled himself to his feet, wincing as a joint somewhere cracked, fortunately the result of sitting down for too long and not something spontaneously breaking. "C'mon, I'll rub some lotion on the parts of you that have color all of a sudden."

Dylan liked the way Joker was smiling. "Yeah, that sounds good." His own smile betrayed his fatigue, but tired or not, Dylan was more then happy to stay up longer so his original plans could work out as he'd intended, now that he knew Joker was wide awake and willing.

Hell, he'd promised the crew a weekend planetside, and it was only Friday. Sleep could wait.


	7. Calories in, Calories Out

_Calories In, Calories Out  
_("You're not really going to eat that, are you?)

All things considered, Miranda was very good at multitasking. What impressed Dylan were the little details, though; she wasn't just good at eating while discussing work and occasionally thumbing at a datapad for relevant information, she was good at eating _properly_, with good posture, poking at pieces of her salad that he was sure were measured while thumbing at a datapad. The woman could make chewing look ladylike.

"Shepard, are you paying attention?"

"Huh?" Blinking a few times, Dylan added, "Sorry, I just...numbers aren't a strength of mine."

Rolling her eyes, Miranda ate another bite - chewing several times before discreetly swallowing, of course - and said, "_You_ were the one who wanted to know more about the process of keeping the Normandy maintained and the crew paid. Which includes you and your specialists." Sighing, she glanced around, eyes skimming the bustle of the restaurant before settling on the strange, multicolored drink he was constantly taking small sips from. His side of the table was otherwise empty. "The service here really is awful."

Despite the way Miranda wrinkled her nose, Dylan brushed it off. "Nah, it's just a big order."

Of course, as if on cue, their waiter sauntered over with his order not five seconds later. After assuring said waiter that he didn't need anything else, Dylan dug right in.

He dug in while Miranda just stared, eyes wide. "You're not...going to eat _all_ that, are you, Shepard?"

"Why not?" Dylan tried to say, but around the mashed potatoes in his mouth, it didn't really come out well.

It wasn't so much the 'what' as it was the _amount._ Steak, potatoes and corn weren't that expensive on the Citadel these days, but she knew North Americans on Earth who lived in the regions where this kind of thing had always been popular, and they didn't eat this much of it in a week. Or in a _month._ She didn't want to guess how much his plate weighed.

As dense as Dylan could be about numbers, he was still observant, and he didn't need help noticing the look on her face. "Miranda, even ignoring the biotics, my arms are bigger around than your head, and I like it that way." Realizing that this didn't sound nearly as good as it had in his head, he kept talking before it could sink in. "You have any idea how many calories I have to burn to get a workout like I used to, with all the heavy-weave enhancements?"

Deadpan, she answered, "Quite a lot, it seems."

Vaguely waving his fork in her direction and, she noted with distaste, flicking off a bit of gravy onto the table, he added, "Hey, if I'd been born a woman, maybe I'd be concerned with my girlish figure and I'd be eating all that rabbit-food, too, but such is fate." Shoving another bite into his mouth, he said, "Mmm, you should've seen me the first time I took leave after I enlisted. Hadn't had good food since Mom got stationed near Watson."

"I'm sure," Miranda sighed. Going back to her datapad, she wondered how to tell him there wasn't room in the budget to stock Gardner with anything more than the current grade of provisions.

Besides, even if they could _afford_ a cow for use as Shepard's personal meat supply, there wouldn't be a place to put it.


	8. Squishy Things

_Squishy Things  
_(Down on my knees)

The glass wasn't actually glass, of course, but transparisteel made a very similar sound to glass when it was hit or tapped. Even when it broke, but that didn't happen often.

So, as Joker tapped his finger to the fish tank twice, the sound seemed loud in the otherwise silent area of the captain's cabin. "They're so...squishy."

"They're jellyfish."

"But they're so _weird._ And they don't look like hanar at all," Joker tapped on the tank again, trying to get one of the little jellyfish to pay attention to him. "Why'd anyone ever call them that? Those aren't even tentacles."

Sighing, Dylan fidgeted, his back rubbing against the bulkhead as he was sandwiched between Joker and the tank. This was ridiculous; he knew Joker grew up on Arcturus, but he'd grown up in space too and he still knew what a jellyfish looked like before seeing one. If he'd known Liara's fish were going to _cockblock_ him, he might've reconsidered taking care of them for her. "Jeff, hello? Clean-cut ex-Marine on his knees about to take your pants off, here?"

Having his hands up to Joker's waist suddenly seemed awkward.

Joker glanced down at him and made a face, his weight shifting to give one leg a break while the other took the brunt of gravity. Once Shepard actually got going, he'd make with the biotics and solve the 'Joker can't stand up forever even for this' problem, but that hadn't happened yet. "I...I feel like they're watching us."

"Jellyfish don't have eyes," Dylan sighed. Now that he'd said it, though, Dylan couldn't help but feel a little too..._observed,_ himself. Turning his head to the right, he said, louder, "EDI?"

Her avatar popping up like usual, EDI gave a cordial, "Yes, Shepard?"

He asked, "Can the tank lights be dimmed?"

Immediately, the lights in the tank did just that, to the point where they nearly turned off, as EDI said, "Of course."

"There," Dylan threw a smile up at Joker, moved his hands, and then stopped in his tracks. He turned his head again. "EDI, could you...go away?"

"I must remind you, Shepard," she was polite enough not to add 'again' to that, "It is impossible for me to 'go away' in the sense of leaving a room on the Normandy, regardless of projected appearance." After an insanely awkward pause, EDI said, "However, I can assure that I will still adhere to standard procedure and cease recording during non-vital personal activities."

'Non-vital personal activities' somehow sounded dirtier than if she'd skipped the polite euphemism, but when EDI's avatar vanished, Dylan felt perfectly free to get back to those activities.

From the look on Joker's face, he didn't seem to be distracted anymore.


	9. CrossSpecies Thanksgiving

**Cross-Species Thanksgiving**  
("What's the big deal about football?")

"What's the big deal about...football? Did the translator catch that right?"

"Yeah, caught it just fine," Dylan sighed. He could not _believe_ he'd been roped into this.

Snuggling up to his other side on the couch, Joker balanced a huge bowl of popcorn in his other arm. "Football, Garrus," Joker began explaining, popping a single piece of popcorn into his mouth with far too much drama, "Is a competition between the manliest of men to decide who the manliest is." Pausing as the door into the observation lounge opened, Joker soon added, "That may _sound_ redundant, but trust me, it makes sense."

"If you say so," Garrus answered. He straightened his back against the couch.

"And he _will_ say so," Dylan groaned. "A lot."

Walking around the couch balancing more than one plate of food and a few things sealed in tupperware, Kasumi smirked, her look unseen through the side of her hood as she sat down on Joker's opposite side. "I don't need to say so, I know it."

Staring at the blank holographic display after thanking Kasumi for the plate of gravy-drenched Earth-food, Joker leaned back while Dylan passed Garrus the dextro-labeled plastic containers. "How's the delay, EDI?"

"I estimate a seven minute lag-time, Jeff," EDI answered, her avatar not popping up in favor of leaving the television feed on. "Unfortunately, it is the best manageable this far from the Sol system."

"Best manageable on a free hack, so I ain't complaining," Joker answered.

After a half-hour, Garrus admitted, "I can't figure out why the ball is going where it is." Squinting at the images as the krogan quarterback got tackled by an asari and a human wearing the opposite team's colors, he added, "I'm still not sure it's even a ball...I think I prefer MMA, it's easier to keep track of."

"I hear that," Dylan sighed.

Joker and Kasumi were too busy rocking the couch on account of the tackle to notice. Nor did they notice the unfortunate direction in which the popcorn bowl fell.

After three hours, Joker and Kasumi were ready to celebrate victory...until it was taken away in the last ten minutes.

"That's bullshit!"

"Worst call _ever!_"

"The ref got paid off!"

"I'll steal his financials and get a scandal going, not even joking!"

The racket eventually woke Dylan from his nap. One side of his face had been worn raw from where he'd dozed off against the side of Garrus' head. "Wha?"

Garrus, for better or for worse, woke up too. "Did we win? Did we," he glanced to the side, seeing how close Dylan was. "Shepard, what were you," and then he realized his neck felt damp; he started poking at it with one talon, abruptly realizing what had happened. "Shepard! You can't drool on me!"

"I'm sorry!"

"What if I go into shock!"

"I'm sorry!"

Abruptly, Joker shuffled further away from Dylan, thankful that Kasumi obliged by moving as well.

Tilting her head to one side, she said, "What's with them?"

"Don't know," Joker crossed his arms, looking back to the replay of the game's end. Of the death of his innocence. "I think they just need to get their priorities straight and pay attention to what's important, here."

"It's alright, Jeff," Kasumi put a comforting arm around his shoulders, patting one. When he didn't stop sulking, she said, "We'll figure something out. I'll even sneak into the crew quarters and steal back your money from Donnelly's footlocker after you pay out."

That, at least, got a smile out of Joker. "Thanks."


	10. Girly Things

**Girly Things**  
(Kasumi admits her crush on Jacob to someone.)

"It is so unfair!"

As Kasumi drops unceremoniously into the chair across from him, Dylan has to remember to chew the food in his mouth. He glances around, wondering if he should be suspicious of the mess hall's emptiness.

He waits until Kasumi settles with her arms crossed on the table with her head resting on top, her hood bunched up at the sides so much that's it looks floppy and depressing like what he can see of her face underneath. "Is...is something wrong?"

"I think I'm crazy," Kasumi sighs. "I can't stop drooling over Jacob like a high-school girl every time I see him." She lets that statement hang for a second before adding, "I haven't even gotten over Keiji yet. I still think about him twenty times a day. I haven't even decided if I want to stop that or not."

Hearing most of this, Dylan becomes fixated on the first part. "Jacob?"

The name alone perks Kasumi up a little. "Have you _seen_ him?" She's smiling now. "He's so...focused and professional." She makes a little cat noise before getting to, "And those abs are to die for."

"Can't argue with that," Dylan picks up the energy drink that came with his MRE before slowly putting it back down, eying her cautiously. "Kasumi, do you have a camera in the men's room?" That he has his own shower makes him feel a little better about this possibility, but, still.

In the most innocent voice imaginable - made all the worse because the innocence sounds completely sincere - Kasumi answers, "No, in the armory." Before the pause grows overly awkward, she adds, "He does sit-ups there when he's bored. Shirtless situps."

"Kasumi," Dylan sighs.

"Okay, I'll turn it off," she goes back to the dejected, arms-on-table look. "I guess being a thief makes you a little less considerate of privacy. Well, obviously, but also when not stealing things."

Deciding that this isn't really that much different than the usual issues any member of the crew might bring to him in terms of being a problem to be solved, Dylan finally takes a swig from his energy drink. "If it helps, I know exactly how you feel."

Her eyebrows perking up under her hood, Kasumi says, "Oh?"

"Plenty," he nods. "Adolescence is hell when most of the people you're attracted to definitely aren't interested."

"That makes sense," she props her head up with a hand under her chin, leaning forward. "How'd you deal with it?"

"Uh," suddenly scratching at the back of his neck, Dylan looks around the room again, finding no salvation on the Normandy's bulkheads. "I enlisted and started wearing my Class-As to gay bars." He's leaving out plenty, like how this was his way of coping after losing someone important, but he doesn't want to talk about that. Besides, losing someone the way she'd lost Keiji was a lot worse than he'd had it getting dumped.

Not even blinking for a few seconds, Kasumi eventually laughs. "I'm surprised Joker doesn't brag about getting you to settle down," she says.

Relieved that she's amused, Dylan adds, "He does, just...mostly to me," he rolls his eyes ever so slightly. "Is that why you came to me about this? Joker would be the first to say I shouldn't be giving relationship advice, he just thinks my lack of interpersonal skills is endearing."

"You're not being fair to yourself." If Kasumi is giving any pretense that she's going to say something meaningful, it's destroyed when she says, "He also thinks you're..."

"Let me guess," Dylan stops her, "He thinks I have nice abs?"

"Among other things," Kasumi answers. "We had ice cream and compared you with Jacob a few nights ago. He seemed more comfortable when I admitted I'm not much for red-heads."

"Really." Resisting the urge to run a hand over the top of his head, Dylan mashes the balls of his hands into his eyes instead, enjoying the odd sensation of the prosthetics pushing back instead of feeling squishy. "Did he tell you to ask me for advice?"

"No, I originally thought of Miranda," she admits. "But that didn't seem very...safe, so I talked to EDI, and she said you'd be good to talk to."

_"Really,"_ Dylan repeats.

"Not sure if she thinks you need an okoge or if I need to be one," she shrugs, that look of innocence back in her eyes and shining through the shadow of her hood, "But for what it's worth, I'm enjoying this conversation."

"I've had worse conversations, I suppose," Dylan sighs. "Still, you'd probably get more help from Chambers."

"No way," Kasumi leans back in her chair. "Not that I don't talk to her about Keiji, but I don't trust her with normal girly things. If I talk to her about Jacob, she'll probably hook us up, and I'm still way too scared of actually giving it a go."

Seeing his chance, Dylan decides not to approach this from an angle about Kelly's likelihood of playing matchmaker and says, "You should at least mention to her you've got feelings for 'some guy,'" he makes air quotes, "Since she can't set you up with someone she doesn't know. That way you can talk to her about how having a crush makes you feel without having enough time to grieve."

"Hmm," Kasumi's head tilts slightly, "You've got me there, Shep. Guess I'm out of excuses." She stands up and stretches. "Still, I appreciate the talk."

"Anytime."

Dylan's smile is as honest as the one she'd been flashing; he'd taught himself a long time ago that his crew is his crew, regardless of how weird or downright uncomfortable their problems are.


	11. Relaxation Technique

**Relaxation Techniques**  
(Sandcastles)

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Oh, c'mon, I know you burn easily," Joker refused to actually look at Dylan. He figured the obvious gobs of sunscreen smeared in layers all over his pale skin would make him break out into giggles. "But a beach is a beach."

"No, I don't mind beaches," Dylan brushed some stray sand out of his hair, "But why are we building a sandcastle?"

Concentrating only on carefully pulling the bucket up off the damp sand until he was satisfied that the latest battlement was stable, Joker started carving details into it. "Chambers suggested it, remember? Said it would be relaxing." Pausing, Joker added, "I hate to say it, but I think she was right."

"Uh huh," Dylan sighed. He flopped onto his back, enjoying the way the coarse sand ground against his skin. He was badass like that. "Couldn't we just throw a towel over our heads and make out?"

"All in good time," Joker smiled. He was about to repeat the words, until he heard the change in Dylan's breathing, loud enough to mix in with the surf and the birds.

Dylan had dozed off. Frowning, Joker considered his options; leaving him out to burn wouldn't work, the guy was well aware of how easily that happened and his layers of sunscreen suddenly seemed less amusing.

Thus, Joker picked up a shovel.

* * *

"What the hell?"

"You really should see yourself." Joker went for his omni-tool, belatedly realizing he hadn't brought it. "Damn, I wish I could take a picture."

Buried up to his neck in the sand, Dylan groaned, "This is not funny." He didn't have a problem sitting up, but as the sand rolled off him, he realized it was caking onto his sunscreen, and it was quite possibly a more aggravating sensation than his skivvies chaffing inside a hardsuit. The sight of Joker with specs of sand stuck in the hair on his chest from the effort was little comfort. "It's in my shorts!"

"At least you had the good sense to take your boots off," Joker chuckled.

Staring at him blankly, Dylan stood up and reeled his left hand back. "Oh yeah?"

"Hey!" This only resulted in Joker leaning over his castle and throwing his arms out. "Don't you _even!_"

Sighing, Dylan let his hand drop. He plodded over to Joker and grabbed him as roughly as he felt safe doing, turning around and forcing Joker to ride on his back. "C'mon."

"Where are we going?"

"I need to clean off," Dylan smiled, though Joker couldn't see it.

It only took a few steps for Joker to realize where he was going. "Can't you just stand under the showers?"

"I could," Dylan answered, the ocean lapping up to his knees.

"Jesus, just don't backstroke," Joker's words were cut off as Dylan dived forward, seawater splashing into his mouth.

In the back of his mind, Dylan made a note to thank Chambers for her relaxation techniques.


End file.
